


We've Got Nothing to Lose (Except Everything We Have)

by prince_rivailles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Depression, Desperation, Domestic, Drunken Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Post-Rumbling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Smut, So much dinners, Switching, and stargazing, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince_rivailles/pseuds/prince_rivailles
Summary: They say you can run from your past so long as you never slow down.So when the war ends in the midst of spring, the barren lands devoid of color and branches hanging more like the dead of winter--Cold. Dead. Ironic.Eren Yeager does not stop running.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 32
Kudos: 245
Collections: 18+ Ereri Discord Server Winter Exchange 2020





	We've Got Nothing to Lose (Except Everything We Have)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TempleMap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempleMap/gifts).



> For darling **Kris** , whom I adore your gorgeous writing and I agonized so hard over writing something good enough for you when I can't remember how to write (also in which I wonder how many post-war canonverse Ereri fics I can get away with writing). This is a whole damn mess, but I hope you’ll be able to find even a bit that you like. ♥
> 
> Manga Spoilers! Title from this amazing song ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sl-b3dFvGi4)). 
> 
> All typos are my own because I'm too obsessive to leave time for beta.

They teach you to fight--with blades that cut through bones, with fists meant to hurl against teeth, with gunpowder and cannons that knock down even stone walls. 

They teach you to defend--when blood soaks through your clothes and your wounds don't do you any favors. When you're standing in your grave with only the dull edges of your last blade, but it’s not enough.

They teach you to sacrifice. Not because you're brave, not because you signed up to, not because you want to. But because it's hopeless and following everyone else straight to hell is really the only ending that you expect.

What they don’t teach you, is the truth--the one you learn across the ocean, disguised on enemy grounds--that you’re all the same. That their streets are full of life and that their people are disturbingly _normal_. That the only devils are words and stories passed down from generations; a tale of a twisted truth paraded as history.

But it doesn’t matter, you don’t have the luxury to think about them. Not them, not their families, not their last words. Not their fears that flicker through their eyes or the sickening realization that you know with every cell in your body that they’re just as terrified, just as _desperate_ as you are.

Life is fleeting, never promised. 

You know that, so you spend years building up to the anticipation--to fall and crumble like the walls that you tear down. You expect to be crushed, to die, beneath the weight of humanity’s hatred and two thousand years of history that you can’t rewrite. 

So you let go. You give up your humanity, you give in--to the monster they always believed you to be and the one that you know, is the only way to save the people most important to you.

You play the devil. You become the world’s greatest enemy and you accept that there will be things that you can’t come back to.

You don’t plan to.

And when it’s over? 

You expect them to live their long happy lives--without you.

What they don't teach you--is to come back. When the sins of the world bleed between your fingers and you fall out of your shell, they don't teach you what you're supposed to do when your heart still beats. 

When you have time. 

When you come back. 

When you live. 

. . . . .

They say you can run from your past so long as you never slow down.

So when the war ends in the midst of spring, the barren lands devoid of color and branches hanging more like the dead of winter--

Cold. Dead. Ironic. 

Eren Yeager does not stop running. 

. . . . .

The dead never return.

Not in paths, not his dreams. Not even in his nightmares do their bodies rewind to that minute or second more to when they breathed, when they cried. When they clawed at the earth to stay alive and he’d ended their lives.

It’s a blessing or a curse, but in this life and his dreams, the dead stay dead.

But he still hears the echoes of crushed skulls beneath his heels. He still tastes the copper of flesh on his tongue; he still sees the shadows grasping for life just before the light dims in the eyes of those too young to die. And he still dreams of the memories and lifetimes that aren't his.

So Eren does not stop.

He does not stop to feel the way the fallen have turned cold and rot into the grounds. He does not stop to catch his breath in the fumes of funeral flames--the piles of dead towering high like the ghost of the titans he's vanquished from this world. 

He never stops to let the remorse curl around the little parts of what’s left of his heart, the one that somehow still beats-- _beating, beating_ \--beneath his chest and telling him that against every odd and impossibility, he is in fact still _alive_. Alive, the way that his body tells him he is with each step that he takes, even if he’s sure that he died somewhere in that last battle.

Died right along with the people he cared about.

. . . . .

He does not slow to say goodbye.

It’s not as though he’s ever known how--to the dead, to his friends.

It’s spring, but it isn’t. 

There’s not enough warmth during the days to make it spring. There’s not enough flowers in the world for him to place on each grave that he’s directly responsible for. And there aren’t enough words that he can ever say to make it right.

The closest he gets to Mikasa and Armin after the war is through Jean, who shows up on his doorsteps once a month. He doesn't remember when Jean became more of a friend than his childhood friends, but here he was saying the words that he hadn’t been able to find. 

The words that they too, had never voiced out loud. 

"They miss you, you know," Jean states, as he plays with a blade of grass between his fingers. The grass is just barely growing beneath their heels and the world is still dull. He wonders when it’ll start feeling like Spring again. 

Eren’s hand rests against his jaw as he traces the ghost of a bruise that had formed ever so faintly, the bruise that had healed by the time he had walked out of that room that day. He remembers the time when Armin had thrown his first punch at him, and how he had taunted him back, threw away their feelings. Pretended they didn’t matter. That nothing did if he couldn’t free Paradis.

"I miss them, too," Eren says, but even he's not sure how honest that is. 

Misses maybe a time past when they had been carefree, when bullies were the most of their worries. When they hadn't really understood the titans, the walls or the world. He misses maybe when they had all joined the military and fought together--them against the world--before he had understood what being the founding Titan meant. Before he had been thrown into paths and saw the history, the world, the truth. Before he betrayed their values and burned the world to the ground. 

Now that it’s over, these are the things that he knows he can’t come back to. Knows that the unspoken words between them all, the pretense that he had thrown up back then when he told them how much he hated them, that even if he didn't--wouldn't ever--was part of things he could never come back to. 

Countless times he’d thought of visiting, thought of all the times he wanted nothing but happiness for Mikasa and he still does, but he thinks visiting now will just be intruding. Intruding like the dark cloud on a perfect day that she didn’t need. Not when she’s finally got the happy family life with Jean that he suspects has always been what she wanted after losing her parents, and then his parents, and then-- _him_. 

And Armin--well, the last time he’d seen him had been in battle and he doesn’t blame the fact that Armin never came around even when Mikasa had tried to before she stopped coming by altogether. 

It’s his fault.

But he’s not the only one who doesn't know how to reconcile the gap that’s grown so far between them. 

. . . . 

At some point, Eren finds himself back in the military.

He doesn’t expect to, he doesn’t think anyone expects him to, but it’s the last place that almost feels like comfort. A fucked up kind, but it’s really the only life he’s used to.

He’s used to it, even when things are different now. The military doesn’t fight during peacetime, they don’t have to train to defend themselves. Not right now. Not when Eren’s brought them peace. But still, there’s a lot to be done after the war, to rebuild their island or keep peace among the trivial aspects of everyday life, the kind that didn’t involve Titans and walls or battles that waged against the world.

It’ll be different. And that’s fine, that’s fine. He’ll never be able to repent for all his sins, but it’s a start. Here, rebuilding the island, the land that he loved. 

What he never expects, is to find him there, too. 

Him. 

In the military.

Eren recognizes almost no one there and it’s no surprise. After all, the military's number had never been high during the last few years of war and even less at the rate of lives that were lost. The older members who had survived had also retired for a different life. So naturally, he doesn’t expect to know anyone. 

But he does.

Eren exhales a slow breath as he stands in the lineup that brings back the feelings of the very first time, a little less than a decade ago--twelve, with a heavy heart and the loss of his mom still fresh in his mind, but his best friends by his side. They had always felt like family, so back then, he thought he’d been luckier than some.

It's only an aftertaste now, the lack of anyone by his side not something he's not unused to--no, when he declared war on the rest of the world and resolved to march forward, he had been alone--but still, it’s noticeable. 

Noticeable with the way that the unfamiliar face on his right does anything but looks at him. It’s the same way that everyone had avoided his gaze when he walked through the grounds, but still stared at him from afar when they thought he didn’t notice. He can’t blame them though and he’d expected as much. He doesn’t have any clue who they are, but he’s sure that they know who he is. Know without a doubt too, what he’s capable of, what he’s done. 

But they don’t know him personally.

He hadn’t expected to find someone that does.

. . . . .

The thing about running from your past is, you can’t look back. 

And Eren hasn’t. 

He knew that when he chose the rumbling, he’d also choose to throw away his old life. The one where he stood by Mikasa and Armin’s side, inseparable and best friends for life, living their dream of seeing the world.

Being free. 

They were family. He loved them. He still does. 

But it’s not so easy; it’s not the same. He’d seen the world, he’d ended the war, but he doesn’t feel free. And maybe that’s the price he has to pay, the one where he’s still chained to his past and the past that aren’t even his own, even now, when he’d freed everyone else. 

He hasn’t looked back. 

And that is why, when the war ended, in spite of promises to talk during the war and promises for time that they never found, Eren hadn’t approached the only other person that he still thinks about more than he should.

The war hadn’t left much time for talking and even less so when he left for Liberio and all hell broke loose upon his return. But after the war, Eren wasn’t sure that there was much to say anymore, so he hadn’t approached him.

Hadn’t talked to Levi.

Eren hadn’t felt like he could. 

It’s been months since the end of the war and this is the first time he sees Levi. Levi, who is still impressively short and immaculate in his uniform without a speck of dust, who’s still got that hard look in his eyes and unapproachable air that both makes Eren nostalgic and tense. 

The context of those conversations that never came to light makes him feel like he’s done something wrong, like maybe he should have said something--anything--before this point, where he’s stepping into the volunteering line of the new military as if he didn’t know Levi. As if this wasn’t all very déjà vu to him seeing Levi at the front of the commanding class.

When Levi looks up to see who the new member is, their eyes meet. If there’s any sort of reaction behind those eyes, Eren can’t read it. Levi’s face gives nothing away, but Eren swears he's back to being fifteen. Fifteen, when he had worshipped the ground in which Levi stood, when he had looked up to him and being under his gaze too long would feel as if he was disappointing Levi.

Maybe he was. Maybe he had.

Maybe that’s why he never approached him after the war.

Eren looks away as Levi hands him his tools wordlessly--gloves, a pickaxe, a shovel, a miscellaneous amount of other things that are not what the old military gave out--and Eren moves on. He goes to line up right along with the rest of the recruits and ignores the stares that he knows he’s getting before he’s assigned to whatever they would be tasked with rebuilding. The soldiers were a mix between new recruits--people after Eren's time--and some old faces, the ones he'd recognized, but was never close to.

None of the 104th. 

None of the people who had a past with him personally.

Just Levi.

. . . . .

Eren spends the rest of the day following orders and avoiding Levi’s gaze.

He gets to work and sweats all the way down to his toes. He lets the ache of the heavy weight of rubble strain his fingers, his bones. He lets the manual labor fill his thoughts until he’s too tired to think of anything else. And it was better this way, he thinks. He was here to help, to repent and make some difference in rebuilding the world, not rehash the past. Not even the kind that felt as fresh as the blood on his hands from carrying too many sharp pieces of rubble even with gloves. The wounds, as fresh in his mind as he thinks, maybe, just maybe, it was for Levi, too.

Eren wipes at the blood against his pants, knows it won't be long before he'll be all healed again. He just hadn't wanted to stop. After the war, stopping was dangerous, stopping meant his mind teetering on the edge of overdrive between thinking too much or feeling too much. And he couldn't handle that, didn't know how yet. The few months when he hadn’t found something to do had already been too much; that's why he's here, back in the military. Even if their duties have shifted, that largely the entirety of the military, or what's left of it anyways, was focused on reconstruction, it was better than nothing.

Levi notices though. When Levi approaches him, Eren has his back turned, gloves off and still wiping at the blood, watching and a bit transfixed as the steam begins to wisp in his palms and remembering too, how many times he's seen this happened but it wasn't any less weird--didn't make him any less than what he was, some monster.

Levi scowls as he watches the faint of blood heal against Eren's palm, but the gash is big enough that he knows Eren's overworked himself. 

"Take a break," he says curtly.

Eren looks up at the voice. It’s the first time Levi’s addressed him personally all day and he swallows and protests, "It’s fine. I can still--"

"Get lunch. Take a fucking break, Jaeger. Don't make me ask again," is the rough reply he gets, before Levi turns away without waiting for an answer.

Just like old times.

Eren stares after him and then sighs, before he goes to sit where they've set up benches and tables for water and food. Most of the soldiers had already had lunch when Eren had worked through it. He hadn't wanted to sit there and pretend like they wanted him there. He's still not particularly hungry though, let alone ready to break, but he's also not here to cause trouble for Levi. 

So fifteen minutes, he’ll take fifteen minutes with his own thoughts.

. . . . .

It’s summer now and the sun sets later these days, but even before the sun sets, they call it quits.

It’s the after, hours later, that Levi finds Eren still amongst the rubble--dirt on his arms, dust on his face, methodical with the way he stacked the stones. The sun isn’t out anymore, but the silhouette of Eren beneath the shadows of the moon stands out all the same.

It’s not that Levi expected things to return to normal, it’s not that he’s delusional enough to think that with the war ended, they’d all get their happily ever after. Contrary to that, it’s the rebuilding that he realizes just how long the war’s gone on for and how long they have to go before they can even say it’s passed. Rubbles and rubbles, and for every stone, every brick they piece together there were tens and thousands more that they haven’t reached. 

He’s only surprised to find that Eren had chosen to return, to the military, of all places. He’s not sure if Eren is here because he’s finally ready to talk or he just hadn’t expected Levi to be here either.

What he gets instead, is an honest confession, from a man who looks too afraid of the world now. 

"If they'd still take him," had been what Eren voiced out loud the first time they spoke alone after the war. Softly, like voicing a fear under only the light of the moon and Levi as witness, his voice sounding almost as broken as he'd looked sitting there alone--the same hooded jacket from back then around his shoulders, his back against the bricks.

It’s been a year and so many months since they’ve last spoken properly and yet Levi’s surprised to find just how much that thought hurts him--Eren, alone--even now.

War had been unkind to him and post-war Levi suspects, hasn’t been any kinder. Levi had raised an eyebrow then, despite that Eren wasn't looking, was too preoccupied staring out into the rubbles--the ones they hadn't gotten to it. There was so much rubble, so much when they had started and so much even now, a few months into the reconstruction and without an end in sight. Still so much that needed to be pieced back together, rebuilt, replanned, but it would happen. He knows that eventually, the pieces will all fall back in place. 

“There’s no reason not to,” Levi responded, but Eren looked almost skeptical.

They've made a lot of progress. He’d watched Eren work harder than anyone else out there today and it’s only been a day, but he’s helped. But even then, Eren seemed uncertain of his place here. Uncertain from the eyes of the other soldiers that had watched him warily all day, like they thought he wasn’t there to help.

It’s bullshit, of course. Levi knows it and he thinks Eren should too.

That uncertainty from Eren had confirmed his suspicions though. That Eren still blamed himself and only himself for what had happened, still carried that burden like they hadn't all been forced to make a choice--death or Paradis. And Eren shouldered those sins alone, here, still mulling over it while everyone else moved on--lived a different life. He hates the world sometimes, hates that Eren died to save them all and this was how he was treated in the end. 

Levi had sighed, leaned up against the same newly built wall of some building just shy of the capital, clean enough that Levi didn't mind resting against it. The night was clear then, the sky devoid of clouds and allowing the moon to shine in all its glory, truly living up to another summer day. It's another beat before he slides down to join Eren on the ground, a bottle of alcohol dangling between his fingers that he passes over to Eren.

If Levi was being perfectly honest, Paradis hadn't deserved Eren. But if Eren thought joining the military would be repenting again, if he was taking up the jobs that few wanted after the war, Levi's not about to stop him. 

He isn't about to let anyone else, either. 

. . . . .

Eren runs. He keeps moving forward.

Because when he does, he knows he’s alive.

The war may have come to an end, but even some months later, when he’s surrounded by the four walls he’s supposed to call home, its desolate rooms and fresh stones that aren’t anything like the dusty old castles they used to stay in, he’s not sure that he’s ever came back. 

Not from the war, not from the person who could kill innocents and still get up the next day to do it all over again if it meant Paradis’ safety. Not from the person with two thousand years’ worth of memories that he can’t run from.

He's fine though.

Fine as long as he doesn’t sit idly. But on weekends, they take a break. They don’t pick up rubble, they don’t piece the world back together. They don’t rush. Most of the soldiers will skip to the bars instead, chatter into the nights and stuff themselves full of fancy food or down too much alcohol. Because it’s peacetime and during peacetime, the military doesn’t need to operate during weekends; they have the luxury to give in to their vices.

So Eren will wake up with too many thoughts and too much time. He’ll wake up to the cold sweat clinging against the warmth of his body, the ghost of the dream so vivid he wonders what it is he's clinging onto when he’s awake.

He’ll throw himself out of bed and shower with all the hot water his pipes have to offer, but it's not enough to clean out the traces of his dream. It’s not enough to muddle the images that weren’t actually a dream. 

Not really. Not when the things that he remembers, the feel of blood between his fingertips, the last inhale of a breath before the bodies still before him had very much been real.

Real, like the time he’s got now, with nothing to do.

He’s got time. And he wasn’t meant to.

. . . . .

Eren’s woken by knocks on his door. 

It’s Sunday. He knows he doesn’t have anywhere to be or anyone to expect and yet when he rubs at his eyes and throws the door open, Levi’s standing there like he’s supposed to be.

“Are you busy?”

Eren stares. “What?”

“I know you have shit hearing, but have you also lost your ability to understand a simple question?”

And Eren shakes his head, “I…” 

He hesitates, as if he’s ever had anything to do these days that isn’t working. It’s Sunday. He doesn’t see anyone else; he doesn’t have plans; he never does. “Why?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Get dressed. I need some help.”

Eren makes to ask him for what, but he knows with the way that Levi has already turned around to head for the shades under the trees outside his door, that he won’t get an answer.

They end up in the farmers market. Down the stone paths that he hadn’t wandered down since he was a kid and out into the clearing where there’s stands put up all around with fresh fruits and vegetables. Kids too, running around and getting scolded by adults telling them to be careful.

He hadn’t expected to see something so...lively. Normal. Then again, he hadn’t exactly gone exploring or paid attention to what’s been happening around the island. Eren blinks, “You need help picking vegetables?”

“No, carrying them back.”

It’s weird with Levi showing up at Eren’s house early in the morning, but it’s weirder being this...domestic, for a lack of better word, with Levi as he watches Levi go from stand to stand and buys more than he thinks one person can possibly eat before they spoil. Sure, he hasn’t seen Levi in the months after the war, he virtually knows nothing about how he lives or well, anything, but still Levi doesn’t look like the type to live with anyone else.

He can’t imagine that. Unless Levi’s gone and gotten himself a partner. 

Eren frowns.

“You planning to eat all this yourself?” he asks, once their hands are full with too many bags of goods and Levi finally declares that he’s ready to go.

“Don’t worry, you’re helping.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dinner. You’re staying.”

“I never said I would--”

Levi cuts him off, “You said you didn’t have plans. So stay for dinner.”

Technicalities. He didn’t technically say he didn’t have plans, he asked why. But even now, Eren finds that he doesn’t know how to argue with Levi so he doesn’t. 

“Fine.”

He adjusts the grip on the bags in his hand before he asks his next question. “How did you even know where I live?”

“I knocked. Door to fucking door,” Levi deadpans.

“Really?”

Levi picks up his pace, a smirk on his lips as Eren trails after him, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

. . . . .

The next time he talks to Levi, not during work hours, they’re sitting on the top of a new wall they’ve built.

It’s nostalgic almost, being so high up in the ground, 3DMG strapped to their thighs like old times. It had been Levi who had suggested it. Levi, who had pulled out the 3DMG and shrugged, saying the view from here was nice.

He’s not wrong, but Eren’s also not sure why he’s here.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

“Yeah because I miss the thrill of killing Titans so much, haven’t been shitting properly since.”

And it’s unexpected, the way that Eren chokes back a laugh that even surprises himself and something flickers in Levi’s eyes that look like amusement, too. It’s a joke that he wonders if for anyone else is too soon, too fresh to laugh about. Especially with him. Especially after what he’d done. 

But it’s Levi, and Levi is blunt more than anything, and somehow with Levi, it’s almost expected. Expected and a joke. That’s all. It doesn’t make him feel as though he’s suffocating the way it does when he hears the hushed pieces of conversations he picks up sometimes when people talk about the Titans, the war. The one Eren’s still running from.

“Still going on about shit then,” Eren says after he clears his throat.

“Always.”

“...What do you do these days?”

“Same as you, I imagine.”

“Well, I don’t do much of anything,” Eren admits, as he takes a swig of alcohol from the bottle Levi handed him and lets the cool liquid burn down his throat. Then he dangles his legs off the ledge and leans back until his back hits the wall and he’s staring up at the stars. His mind is a hazy lull for a moment at the sudden change in perspectives and the few drinks he’d had before they came up here. Levi is right, the view is great and from up here, he thinks the stars feel even closer.

“And what gives you the impression that I do?”

Eren glances over at him, but Levi’s still sitting up and he can’t see his eyes. “Don’t you, Captain?”

Levi exhales, audibly. “Wow. Really gonna throw me back, aren’t you?”

“You wanted to break out the 3DMG and get on top of walls, can you blame me?”

Levi snorts, fingers drumming against the stones of the wall as he answers, “You make it sound like child’s play. But that’s...fair.”

“Yeah.”

They stay like that for a while, staring out at the stars, out at the world from the wall. It’s not anywhere as tall as the walls used to be, but it still feels nice. He wonders when he ever started thinking that the walls could be something nice, when all he’d ever wanted was to get out of them.

Levi breaks the silence eventually. “Levi. Just call me Levi.”

“...Levi,” Eren tests against his tongue. Without the formalities. Without the title. It’s the first time he’s said his name on its own out loud and he pauses, pensive, before he asks. “So you haven’t found yourself a partner then?” 

Levi falls back, until he’s beside Eren, his body just inches away from Eren’s as he too stares up at the stars. “Wherever did you get the idea?”

He’s still thinking about the tomatoes, the squash, the radish, and all the other produce that he carried back for him. “Well, you bought an awful lot of produce the other day. More than I think anyone can eat on their own...or more than I’ve ever seen you eat.”

“You used to watch me eat?”

“Maybe,” Eren finds himself saying, even though he knows without a doubt that the answer had been yes. Back then he’d always watched Levi. Watched the way he picked up his teacup and held it in the most delicate of manners. Watched the way he’d taste his soup first--always a half spoonful, his face blank as he tasted, before he gulped down the rest of it like it wasn’t piping hot. He watched the way Levi folded up his cloak and tucked the laces of his boots inside every time he took it off and the way he brushed his horse and tended to the rest.

“Are you drunk already?” Levi says suddenly, eyebrows raised as he turns to look at Eren. 

And Eren shrugs, the bitter taste of alcohol still on his lips as repeats the words, “Maybe.”

“Weak.”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing them,” Eren accuses without malice, and his hands close around the bottle again that sits beside them, the feel of the drink steadily getting warmer in the summer night.

Levi is gentle, despite his blunt words. And Levi, he finds, is still a lot of things--including, unnervingly relatable as his eyes widen slightly at Levi’s next words.

“I don’t think...,” Levi starts, “I don’t think there’d be a partner who’d willingly settle with me.”

And Eren stops thinking about the past, about the habits he’d watch from Levi back then, as Levi’s words bring him back to the present and his heart thuds in his chest in the way that feels them hit way too close to home.

He hadn’t expected Levi to voice them, too. 

. . . . .

They rebuild the towns. From the pavement and cobbled stone streets to the store fronts and houses. 

Brick by brick, it’s cathartic almost, to pick up each stone, each brick and piece it together.

Even if Eren thinks, there’s a certain irony to how he can’t even piece himself together. 

The sun just begins to set when Eren witnesses the completion of a home he helped build. There’s a family off on the side of the road and they have luggage at their feet. It’s not much, but he supposes following the war, those who lost their homes never had much to begin with let alone much that they salvaged. 

His stomach turns as he thinks about it and he looks away. Looks away from the family and their little girl in her sunflower dress. He’s not here to think about this and it’s not about him.

He’s here to make a difference--with bricks and stones, with each building that he puts up. Even if he feels the uncomfortable feeling that indirectly or directly he did this, but at least this family can start over when others can’t.

They don’t all get another shot.

It’s when the family walks up to thank each of the present members of the military who helped build their home, their daughter bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement and so much adoration in her eyes, that Eren turns to walk away.

He can’t do this.

Can’t have someone thank him when it’s his fault. He’s sure once the parents catch sight of him, they’ll know, too. And he doesn’t want to face the kind of blame that he knows he’ll find in their eyes, the way they’ll think he’s the devil.

And he is, they’re not wrong, but he can’t be here.

Eren walks away, his feet taking him further and faster away than he’s registered as the world fades in his ears and whispers replace the happy gratitude in the background--

It’s his fault.

_His fault. His fault._

He knows. They know.

“You’re going to leave before they thank you?”

Eren looks up and Levi’s stepped in front of him. His arms are crossed, his expression bored, as if he’s talking about the weather.

Eren grits his teeth, eyes narrowed. “You know why.” 

Levi tilts his head towards just behind Eren, eyebrow raised as he comments, “She doesn’t.”

And Eren pauses, before he turns to the girl standing just a couple feet away. Shy smile on her lips, it seems she’s holding sunflowers too, like the ones that match her dress. And it’s happiness that radiates off of her, the kind that Mikasa used to look like when they had all played together. Him. Armin.

As the girl realizes she’s been acknowledged, she takes a daring step towards him, one and then another and another, before she’s close enough and holds out the sunflower. “For your hard work, sir! I can’t wait to live in the home you built us.”

And Eren swallows, his feet itching to run away, to leave before her parents see. Before her parents accuse him of all the things that he’s done and that building one house isn’t going to wipe away his sins. But they’re not, they’re still thanking everyone else and the only one watching is Levi. Watching the way he hesitates and in the end, he doesn’t have it in his heart to turn down the flower from this girl, even if he knows it’s a lie. 

“Thank you,” he finally says.

But if it’s discomfort on his face, she doesn’t make any signs that she’s noticed. Instead, she flashes another smile and bounces away. Just like that.

And then Levi’s walking past him too, but his voice carries in the wind and Eren hears him even when he’s walked away.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

. . . . .

A week later, Levi shows up at his door, looking entirely too casual and normal as Eren holds the door open and Levi walks in, without stopping to greet him.

"I've brought dinner," he offers simply, as if it explained everything. 

Eren blinks after him and lets the door click shut as he follows Levi into the house, as if it was Levi's house and not his own. For once, he's glad of how often he can’t sit still, can’t stay taskless to the point that he cleans almost religiously now. It keeps him busy.

Enough to make Levi proud, he thinks internally, as Levi looks around and Eren's almost greatful to find that he doesn't look disgusted, maybe pensive instead as he finally settles on the table next to the back window. 

When Eren says nothing, Levi finally sighs and glances over him, "You haven't eaten have you?"

It's evening now and if he thinks about it, the last time he did was probably right after five o'clock yesterday. The light dinner that he had when everyone wrapped up for the day to go home. He doesn’t eat breakfast anymore and he hadn’t even thought about lunch today.

Eren shrugs, "No."

"Then let's eat."

It's simple, like this. With Levi. As if all the things he'd done in the war was a million miles away, not fresh in his mind, not like Eren had truly lived up to the name--a monster. Sometimes, he wonders how Levi can look at him like nothing's changed. Like he's just...still, Eren. The one that hadn't devastated the world or the one that hadn't died back there, when the heavens rained ash from the last battle and he was left standing in the aftermath of hell.

They eat, in silence. But Eren doesn't take more than a few bites, before he's blurting out the question that itches at him. "Why?"

Levi pauses for all of a moment, before he finishes swallowing his bite. He picks up the napkin and swipes at his nails, in between his fingers, and then finally puts it back on the table and looks up to meet his eyes. Eren's still staring.

"You're going to have to be more specific.”

“All of this...coming over, dinner, what are you doing?”

Levi stares back at him. “I think you’re lonely.”

Eren scoffs, “So what? This is pity? For the record, I’m not.”

“ _No_ , Eren. It’s not pity. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because. Because…,” Eren trails off, his fists clenched now as he asks himself every day the obvious. _Why would you, Levi?_ Is what he wants to demand, why, why, _why_ \--when no one else is around anymore, when no one wants to be here, and even _he_ doesn’t want to be here. 

He doesn't want to be here, so why would Levi willingly put himself into hell with him?

When he can’t find the words to answer that question, Levi stands up. He picks up the dishes and deposits them into the sink before he’s already changing the subject, “Dinner. You’ll come tomorrow, won’t you?”

And Eren is...lost. He doesn’t understand.

Instead, he grounds out, “Don’t you have better things to do than cook me dinner?”

Levi shrugs, “No. I don’t.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you like me,” Eren replies offhandedly. 

“Then come over.”

Eren stares after him, but Levi doesn’t leave him room to answer. He’s already putting his shoes on and letting the door shut, his words soft, “Goodnight, Eren.”

. . . . .

These dinners, Eren considers not showing up, but he does. There’s something that pulls him there even when he’s tired. So tired of the world, of himself, of whatever it is Levi’s doing that he insists is because he wants to that Eren doesn’t understand.

It’s over dinner one night too, that Levi asks him, "Do you even want anything anymore?"

And Eren scowls into the table, voice on edge, "Of course I do."

Levi raises an eyebrow, daring him to answer, "Yeah? And what's that? Working yourself until you drop dead?"

It’s no surprise that Levi goes there. And alright, maybe Eren has been working a little too hard, maybe he does skip breaks when Levi’s not watching, and skips meals when he _knows_ he’s not wanted at the table with the rest of the soldiers, but he knows his limits. He’s had enough during the war to know what his limits are. He doesn’t need Levi to tell him.

It’s a ghost of an emotion that flickers in his eyes as he denies, too fast, too defensive, "No."

"Then what?" Levi presses.

Eren stares at the odd specks of the wooden table, the way the patterns curve into forming its wood shape and he breathes, wondering why the sentence “I want” was so hard to finish. So hard to answer, when he had always _wanted_ something. Wanted freedom. Wanted life outside those walls. Wanted more than the predefined destiny of history repeating itself and him, caught in the middle of it all, doomed without choices. So why, was it so hard to say now? Now that he’s supposed to be free, now that the rest of the world aren’t ready to wipe them from existence. Now that there aren’t walls. Not physically, at least. Surely, in his twenty years of life it shouldn’t be so hard to answer, right?

Right?

But Levi looks at him, expectantly, waiting. Waiting as if he sees right through Eren, sees right through the fact that he’s nothing now, nothing but his obsession to work himself to the bone and the too dark memories that he runs away from. That he hasn’t stopped running from.

And at the very core of it, he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore.

If anything.

But Eren won’t admit that, won’t even if Levi’s looking at him with that too knowing, too sharp look that makes him feel so… fifteen again.

Fifteen and being chided for insubordination.

He’s not though. Not anymore.

Maybe back then that Eren would’ve exhaled his darkest secret. The one where he admits out loud that he doesn’t know what he wants, that maybe Levi is right and he doesn’t want anything anymore. That he doesn't know how to want anything, when he's just remnants of who he used to be. That he doesn’t want to be alive, but he is. He is and he isn’t meant to be. 

But if he does, if he breathes it out loud now, that makes it true doesn’t it? And if it’s true...well, then Eren would have to stop.

And he can’t. He can’t and he’s not fifteen anymore. So Eren says nothing, stares harder into the wooden table as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen in years and he lets the silence hang heavy. 

. . . . . 

Where it starts, where it ends, he knows this place like the back of his hands. The earth he's dug his fingers into, the well he'd drawn water from, the tree he'd slept beneath. The patches of grass too, flattened along the riverbed where he'd watch the world then and wondered when something would happen.

Something. Shortly after those thoughts, so much happened. It’s been ten years. 

And here...it's home. The familiarity of it all, he practically tastes on his tongue and he knows this place. He knows it all, but what he doesn't know is inside his head. The feelings that keep him from lying beneath the very tree he had years before. The feelings that make him wonder why he feels out of place, out of time.

He doesn't know when he became someone who didn't know what they wanted. Someone who couldn't stop running. And it's Levi's question that still nags in the back of his mind--

_Do you even want anything anymore?_

And the childish side of him that hasn't lost its stubbornness insists that he does. 

He does, he does...

He has to, doesn't he?

He just wishes, he knew what that was. 

. . . . .

"You never came by," Levi breathes, one night in between gulps of alcohol.

They’re stargazing and drinking, or maybe dancing around putting a word to their unspoken agreement to be here--after standard military hours, long after the volunteers and rest of the soldiers have gone home. Most of the soldiers now have formed a sort of bond and he notices their nightly gatherings and their general ability to live the way he’s always imagined everyone would, but no one has asked if he wants to join.

It’s fine though. He’s not certain that even if they ask, he’d be able to. The thought of sitting still at a restaurant or a bar makes his stomach turn. The same way that it does when he has too much time alone, in his home that feels pointless--why does he need a place all to himself when he doesn’t want to spend any time there? 

It’s then that he feels the past creeping up on him and slowly curling around his breath until he swears they choke him into the land of half living, half dead and he’s not sure if he’s a corpse or the apocalyptic kind that doesn't die. 

So he’s here, instead. Being outside, under the stars, where he can look up and trace the names of the stars and it gives him something to do as he holds his own bottle of alcohol. Being around the bricks that he picks up and knows it’s making a difference with each piece, grounds him into the present. 

The present where Levi has made a habit of joining him. Eren blinks at the sudden accusation of Levi’s tone, "What?"

"After the war, you never came by.”

There’s a slight hesitation in his words. It’s not like Levi. He continues, slowly, quietly--words almost lost to the wind as a breeze passes by. It’s cooler tonight than it’s been in weeks.

“I thought I’d lost you then.”

 _I_.

Not we. Not them. 

When Eren turns to face him, Levi’s face is blank. He’s staring right ahead. Not looking at the stars, not the trees, but whatever he’s seeing, it’s intense and fixated. 

Eren wonders if this is what a drunken confession is as he swallows another gulp of scotch. Because scotch is Levi’s favorite drink and he always does come around with a bottle or two. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say though. These days, he can’t ever seem to find the words. 

“And then you showed up. Here. I didn't expect you to.”

Eren can reply to that one at least. "Didn't expect to see you, either."

Levi snorts, "I suspected. But where do you think an old ass like me would end up?"

"You're not that old."

"I've still got 10 years on you."

"And I've got two thousand years worth of lifetimes and memories that on some days, I can't discern from. I don’t think you can beat me in years."

It’s a joke or meant to come off light, but when the words leave his lips and Levi looks at him, serious now, he tastes just how bitter the truth is. He feels like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes, but not his own. He doesn’t think he knows how to live his own life anymore.

Levi's eyes widen slightly, just slightly. Slight, but enough for Eren to notice. Because these days, it seems he’s back to his old habits--the one where he watches his former Captain like he did back then.

For a moment as Levi stares wordlessly at him, Eren wonders when he stopped. When he stopped noticing Levi and how coming back to the military and working along the side of him again made him begin again. Like maybe, he was wrong and he had something--someone--to come back to.

Levi exhales a slow breath and turns away, the side of his profile facing Eren now as he breathes, "Shit.”

He asks softer next, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask. “Is that what happened?"

Eren closes his eyes and leans against the wall then. It’s not a secret, but he’s never admitted that to anyone else. He’s never had anyone to after all.

"Yeah.”

. . . . . 

They fuck against the door. In a closet. Against the walls that they’re meant to be building. Against the back of the old barracks when everyone else has left and the leaves crunch beneath their boots. When it’s raining or the snow falls too heavily outside and they aren’t meant to be working, but Eren hates sitting idly and Levi indulges him--

Sometimes.

A lot of times.

He doesn’t remember when this started happening. When he’s desperate and his hands grasp for purchase against anything, anywhere, something, someone-- _Levi_. He doesn’t remember when that became Levi, or when Levi allowed it to happen. He doesn’t remember when one night, in between dinner and stargazing, Levi kissed him and he kissed back. Sometime in between Levi inviting himself over so often and Eren joking that he thinks Levi likes him, somehow, this happened.

 _This._

Levi, whose ragged breath matches his own as he fucks up into him.

It’s dirty at times, but Levi somehow doesn’t mind so long as he’s not touching any of the dirty things. And it works--because Eren can hold him up, can be the one pressed up against the wall, with Levi’s legs braced against the either side of him, his hands around Eren’s neck, as he slides down on him. And Eren will have one hand around Levi’s waist and another on his cock, jerking him off in time with the way Levi fucks himself down. 

Fast, dirty. Eren’s shirt hangs open before him, his belt thrown to the ground and pants somewhere around his knees. Levi's cock pulses in his hands and he thinks he's going to blow his load, way way too soon. But Eren’s not ready to let go, he’s not ready to slow down. So he’ll bite the shell of Levi’s ears, his thumb and forefinger forming a ring around the base of Levi’s cock and tightens as he whispers, “Not yet. Not yet.”

And Levi will tilt his head to meet Eren’s lips instead. He’ll groan straight into his mouth, all hot and breathless, as he begins to feel too much, need and want flashing throughout his entire body. He’s taken so high and then thrown back down as Eren holds off his release. 

Eren changes angles, pulls out completely and then bottoms out straight against his prostate and Levi’s sweating all down his back, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his cursing slips past Eren’s lips. 

“Fuck, _fuck_. Eren--”

He doesn’t know how long it goes on, the world drowned out in his ears, as they move. As Levi drops himself down on his cock each time, there’s only the sound of their movements and Levi’s consistent cursing as he crawls closer towards release. The one Eren lets him have.

It’ll take everything he has to stay as still as he can, head banging back against the wall when Levi tightens around him and falls against the crook of his neck. Levi inhales sharply and bites down against his skin as he cums right into Eren’s hands.

His hands are sticky, his neck stings from where Levi bit him, lube slicks down his thighs and his heart hammers straight in his chest like he’s run a marathon and--it helps. It helps when he’s done and cum drips between them and he’s dazed from the pure adrenaline from the heat of the moment. 

It’s messy, desperate fucking. 

It helps. 

. . . . .

Sometimes it works. Other times, well, he doesn’t know what to think.

But Levi keeps coming around.

It’s not always after-hour or in between shift fucks. It’s not always them disclosing thoughts that they never tell anyone else-- _secrets_ \--because, he’s really starting to think that’s the only word for what they share, under the stars with no one else as witness, a bottle of alcohol shared. Sometimes two, sometimes three. As if alcohol drowns the noise when it only dulls it at best.

It’s something else, it’s different. He feels.

He feels alive. Not because he survived, not because it’s forced and he’s here, his blood running through his veins and his inability to stop running, but because it’s Levi.

And he _knows_ , Levi’s wrong. That no one wanting to settle with him willingly can’t possibly be true.

Because Levi--

Levi is something else.

And falling back into the steps of following him as they rebuild this town, and the next, is surprisingly easy.

. . . . .

Eren has seen the man waging war on the battlefield, a kind of unmatched fury that can turn the tides. He’s seen Levi as someone who takes their desperation and still pulls through. Levi was for all his title implied, humanity’s strongest soldier.

He’d been there. He’d seen it, too. But he’s also seen the way that Levi had been more. 

Back then, when he’d lower his guard and his shoulders sagged with the weight of the day and the hard look in his eyes dropped behind closed doors. When Eren visited him with tea and they talked, about things of no importance, anything but what mattered and shared a look that he never dared to act on.

Or now, in the dim lights of the setting sun as he looks at Eren with a kind of fondness that he’s never seen before. 

Levi picks up the fresh hand towel, dips it into the water basin beneath him and wrings it dry. Then he'll press it softly, so softly against the tip of Eren's fingers as if it's an artistic piece he's working on and not just cleaning Eren, Eren will finally, finally blink down at him and ask, "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you," Levi will reply as if it wasn't obvious.

"I've already showered.”

And Levi will almost smile, a tinge of amusement in his tone as he answers, "I know."

Levi knows because Eren smells of all the clean things that he loves--skin clinging of fresh soap and clothes hinting of detergent, but most of all, Eren will smell of himself--the natural kind that's often masked when he's been outside too long.

Eren’s been there, too. Been that kind of fury that has it in him to tear this world apart. He’d done it after all. Literally. It’s over.

It’s over. 

Not in his head, not in the dark every time he closes his eyes. But still, it’s over and yet he’s never been...this. 

The softness and ability to feel like he doesn’t have to run, that it’s not a sin to have time when he isn’t meant to, the way that Levi acts like this without Eren understanding why. 

He hadn’t understood back then and he thinks, he still doesn’t. 

. . . . . 

Eren hasn’t slowed down. Not since he left for Liberio. Not since the war ended.

But the night Levi takes him apart, not when they’re drunk and in the heat of the moment, not on the back of Levi’s door desperate to feel or when Eren’s desperate to stop thinking, but in his bed, he slows down. He slows down enough to taste the earl gray tea on Levi’s lips. He slows down enough to feel the trace of fingertips pop the buttons off his shirt and hear the sound of fabric sliding off skin.

Meticulous. Slow. 

Way slower than they’ve ever been with each other, way slower than Eren has ever allowed and he hears the way his heart drums beneath his chest as he watches Levi. There’s a certain intensity that he never notices, the way Levi is touchy and attentive even when he’s with Eren now. Even after the war, the way that he’s always been. Like nothing has changed.

Like the way that Eren asks himself _why_ is irrelevant.

Eren watches the way Levi slips his shirt off his shoulders and brushes a hand across his collarbone. Watches the way Levi presses his lips against his pulse and bites against the skin there hard enough to leave a mark.

And Eren swallows, the way he feels desire building. 

Then Levi is pressing into him and he feels, he feels the way Levi holds against him just, he feels the way Levi’s nails dig against his skin, one hand against his thigh and the other on his wrist. He feels everything, _everything,_ and he’s drunk this time not on scotch, but what he thinks is feeling, drunk on Levi--and he breathes out a long shuddering exhale. 

He’s free falling into time as Levi fucks him. Slow, so goddamn slow but he’s never been so hard in his life. Never felt so much as Levi falls forward chest against his own and presses him into the mattress and he feels like his own heart will beat straight out of his chest on the adrenaline alone as Levi takes his goddamn time. As Levi takes him apart, inch by inch until he’s nothing more than an incoherent body beneath him and he thinks he’s starting to understand.

For the first time since the war has ended, the world stills. 

And Eren Yeager slows down.

. . . . . 

“Eren.” 

Levi stares right at him, eyes burning so bright even with only the glimmer of moonlight in the room and Eren’s hardly even paying attention to the sound of his voice at this point, until--

“I love you.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice. There’s no bullshit. No romance and clichés the way he supposes normal people expect with confessions. They’re not even under the stars tonight, which he supposes, is maybe--what’s more appropriate. They’re at Eren’s house, getting ready to sleep.

He’d leaned over Levi to fix the sheets, nothing else. 

Nothing, but--

_I love you._

It’s not a joke. Levi doesn’t joke unless it’s about shit. The ones he hears when Eren’s been in the bathroom too long, lost in thoughts under the sprays of his shower and Levi asks if he needs a hand in taking a shit even if he knows very well that Levi can hear the water running. It’s crude and literally, shitty jokes, but Eren’s always been amused by them anyways.

Maybe he’s not the only one with shitty humor. 

But this. A confession out of nowhere, nonchalant and honest. So much honesty in the tone of his voice, there’s no doubt that it’s real, makes his heart fucking pound and Levi’s face still gives nothing away. 

Nothing.

Like Levi doesn’t expect a reply and Eren...he’s not sure he knows how to give one. Isn’t sure, with the way that his heart beats and he can’t seem to find his voice anymore, what this even means. 

_I love you._

Him, who has given up on just about everything, who’s barely keeping himself alive in between battling his sanity with the nightmares or memories that won’t stop and overworking himself--the way that Levi calls him out on all the time and makes him stop. Him, who thinks he’s long past the time for anyone left to love him--not Mikasa, not Armin; he hasn’t seen them in so long he doesn’t remember the last time they spoke.

Levi loves him.

And Levi doesn’t even seem bothered by the way that Eren doesn’t know how to respond. He just closes his eyes and breathes, like every night, “Goodnight, Eren.”

. . . . . 

The next day they finish another home; another family moves in. It’s been a year. They’ve built countless neighborhoods, countless buildings and countless homes that he’s lost count of.

It’s spring again, but this time the flowers are out, the grass is fully grown and there’s color, buildings, _life_ around them.

This time around, Eren’s better at sticking around, better at pushing away the need to run and he stands his ground, even a hint of a smile on his lips when the little boy runs up to him.

“Thank you for building my home.”

Eren nods his acknowledgement.

“You’ve certainly gotten good at that,” Levi comments from behind him a moment later.

Eren’s not surprised that Levi watched him, the way that he seems to be doing all too much these days. But it’s the same in that he can’t take his eyes off of Levi, either. 

. . . . . 

They’re out on a field, sitting against the new fences they’ve put up around a farm. It’s summer again and the sun is just setting, but it’s still too warm. 

Levi wrinkles his nose, “I hate farms.”

He knows Levi hates it here. Hates the smell, hates accidentally stepping in actual shit, but he’s still here because Eren had wanted to stay out a little longer.

Eren chuckles, “I know. Why did you come then? You didn’t have to.”

Levi shrugs, looking out into the distance. “The things I do for you, brat.”

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

“I’ll damn well call you what I want, when I want. You’re still a brat.”

Eren tilts his head, “We’ve been over this before. It doesn’t make any sense. You know I’m _way_ taller than you now?”

“Doesn’t take much,” Levi mutters, kicking his heels up against the bottom railing of the fence.

Eren snickers, a hint of a smile at his lips. “The day you admit that it doesn’t take much to beat you in height. Never thought I’d see it.”

“And you won’t ever again.”

“Once is enough.”

They fall into silence the way that seems to happen all too often these days, these weeks, these months. It’s the kind of comforting silence that’s nice in the way that Eren doesn’t mind the silence, doesn’t mind the way that he dragged Levi to sit down with him. Here. Like this.

Like slowing down is actually nice and he wonders, when it happened. When he allowed himself to stop running and actually feel the wind against his hair and Levi’s fingers between his own. When he allowed himself to slow down for once and not feel like his thoughts or the past will drown him alive.

They’re still there of course, always, but it’s easier. 

“You do know whose farm this is, right?”

Eren turns to face Levi and shakes his head. There’s a look in his eyes that he doesn’t understand, before Levi says softly, “It’s Jean and Mikasa’s.”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why…”

“I came? Yeah.”

Eren exhales just as Levi comments simply, “You should visit them before we go.”

Eren looks wistfully down at the ground. “And here I thought you stuck around to sit here because of me.”

Levi doesn’t hesitate. “I did, but you should still go.”

And Eren says nothing. He should. He knows it’s been an awfully long time. He still sees Jean once a month like clockwork, but he hadn’t known that this is where they’d settled. Hadn’t known that the farm they spent all afternoon on putting up fences for was theirs. 

It’s beautiful and a year ago, he’d run.

“Eren.”

Eren tilts his head in acknowledgement and Levi’s other hand reaches out to brush away his bangs, presses a kiss against his lips. Feather soft, but meaningful. “You don’t have to keep hurting yourself.”

“I don’t-- I’m not--”

“You were. But I’m not the only one who still loves you.”

Levi squeezes his hand and Levi feels warm in a way that he knows is not from the summer heat. It’s the kind of warmth that ebbs away the coldness in his heart regardless of how warm his actual temperature is. Levi is the gray that stands out in the black and white of the world when he's stuck somewhere between the dreams and memories he can't distinguish from even when he opens his eyes.

Levi feels like a lifeline when he’s too far at sea, the constant that makes him, for the first time since the war has ended, wants to slow down. Slow down and face his past, the parts too, that maybe shouldn’t stay in the past. 

Levi is… is maybe the one thing he still wants, after all this time.

Maybe what he’s always wanted. Between being fifteen and having the one person always believe in him, the one who hadn't given up on him even now after the war, and the one who had justified that being a monster didn't mean that he--or they--didn't deserve something else. The one person that hadn’t treated him like he’d changed so far beyond someone he knew.

Levi, who looks at him now, like he always has.

“Levi,” Eren breathes, his forehead falling forward to rest just against Levi’s shoulders and he thinks, it’s probably an odd look. The way he slumps against him despite their height differences and grabs at Levi’s shirt, but Levi doesn’t mention it, doesn’t even push him away as Eren leans there.

“Hmm?” 

“You asked me almost a year ago, what I wanted.”

He’s surprised that he remembers it’s been so long. That it’s really been almost a year since he’d rejoined the military, without a purpose, without wanting anything. Without slowing down.

He remembers too, the first time Levi slid down besides the pavement with him and it hadn’t been the words he couldn’t find himself to say, it hadn’t been the accusatory “you’ve changed” or the look in his eyes that Eren was too different to talk to now. 

He doesn’t remember when Levi started barging into his house after that, like it was normal, like they hadn’t almost not spoken in a year.

“Yeah?” Levi breathes back, his voice soft. Soft in a way that makes Eren’s heart beat too fast and he wonders how he'd missed the signs before, the lingering stays and Levi's voice echoing in his too quiet house after he'd gone. The way that Levi notices him, notices everything and pushes past all his defenses.

_I think you're lonely._

He is. He was. 

And he thinks, Levi was, too. But somewhere between the end of the war and Eren never slowing down, he’d thought he’d lost those feelings. Lost the ability to slow down and admit to being lonely, lost the ability to want anything the way he had vehemently denied when Levi asked. 

“There is something I want,” he finally admits, and his hand reaches to cling tighter against the front of Levi’s shirt and if the wrinkles he’s causing bothers Levi, he doesn’t mention it. Doesn't move an inch and maybe hardly breathes as he waits.

Waits, because maybe Eren’s pains have never been his alone. 

Eren finally looks up, “You. Us. I want...this.”

Levi eyes widened just a fraction for a second so quickly, Eren almost misses it as Levi swallows and repeats, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A heartbeat passes and Eren’s heart pounds in his ears, before Levi huffs out, “About damn time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, screams, kudos feed my unmotivated soul and mean the world to me. Thank you for reading! Come scream about SNK/Ereri with me on [ tumblr](https://prince-rivailles.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/rivaille_x). ♥


End file.
